Dean Winchester's Demon Detox Manual
by Queen Edmund Pevensie
Summary: 5x14. Dean can't do anything for Sam. He can't do anything except make sure no more big brothers have to go through this again.


**Dean Winchester's Demon Detox Manual**

The last time, well, the first time we had to go through this, Bobby mentioned it as an act of derision. Nobody in the entire history of the world has had a demon blood addiction before and so no big brothers ever thought of writing a detox manual before.

I don't really want to, but Sammy's screaming in the basement, and he's in a lot of pain, and I can't do anything about anything while he's out of commission. I went outside for a bit, but it's February, and Bobby came out after a while and said Sam's asking for me.

I was downstairs, but Sam was already passed out. I sat there for a bit, but I got up because I felt like I should help but I don't know what to do.

I paced the house while Sam was quiet because he was sleeping –sorta –but Sam waking up would be the greatest thing to happen. Sam really truly waking up and coming upstairs and going to sleep in a real bed, and waking up in the morning and eating breakfast.

It was about two in the morning, about sixteen hours since Sam was parked in the panic room, when Bobby said he was going to bed and suggested that I should do the same.

I did, but I slept lightly and on Bobby's couch. That was the closest I could be to Sam without being in the basement. I was asleep for an hour when Sam woke up screaming in agony so loudly I'm surprised all of South Dakota didn't wake up.

I went down to see whether Sam needed anything , but he wasn't coherent, so I helped him drink some water and went back upstairs, where I found Bobby waiting for me. He asked how Sam was doing. I didn't answer that question, mostly because Bobby didn't want answer. He knew how Sam was doing. If Sam's screaming didn't clue him in on how screwed we were, nothing would. He asked how I was, which I also didn't answer. Bobby wheeled out of his library to go back to bed and I sat down at the desk and put my head down. I am so tired, and Famine was right. I am empty, and right now, being empty is the only thing keeping me alive. But I know that when Sam wakes up –really wakes up –he's going to need me not to be empty, and I don't know if I can conjure up the strength to do that, even for Sam.

I found this empty notebook lying on Bobby's desk and hunters keep notebooks and journals of their findings, and accomplishments for posterity's sake. I'm trying to think of all the things I could put in this thing that no one has ever put down in words, because it's never happened before in the history of man, for the sake of generations of hunters to come, and the only thing I can think of right now is this:

IF YOUR BROTHER DIES IN A DEMON RELATED ACCIDENT AFTER HAVING FREAK VISIONS FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS, DON'T SELL YOUR SOUL FOR HIM. KILL YOURSELF.

Because when that's all I can think of right now. When I first came back from Hell, I would get so wrapped up in my pain and guilt and misery, sometimes I wondered if it was worth it, but then Sam would come in and it was enough. He was moody and belligerent, and drinking demon blood behind my back, but he was alive and happy (enough) and healthy, and it was better than I imagined because I was alive and we could just be brothers.

But now, I don't know if it was worth it. If I could have gone to Hell to save Sam, to really save him and not damn him to Hell on Earth then I would do it again, no questions asked, but that's not what happened, because I'm a fucking idiot. So my second piece of advice:

DON'T BE A DICK TO YOUR BROTHER

If I had just talked to Sam instead of yelling at him, if I had let Sam explain, things might have turned out different. I don't really believe that. Sam still would have killed Lilith. But maybe he wouldn't have been so hell-bent on revenge for something that didn't matter anymore. Maybe I could have intervened with the goddamn demon blood thing before it got too far. There would have been no withdrawal, no panic room, no guilt, no extra misery to add onto the misery of the end of the world.

If YOUR BROTHER SAYS HE WANTS TO EXPLAIN SOMETHING TO YOU LISTEN.

Sam is still screaming in the basement, and I still don't know what to do except write this useless journal, and I don't know why, but this time is so much worse than pre-Apocalypse withdrawal. Maybe it's the impending definite end of the world, or maybe it's because I'm not so angry at Sam this time. It's worse for Sammy too. You can hear it. Oh God, he's crying now. I can hear it from up here. He's crying now. Should I go down to him? Is that breaking some sacred law of withdrawal? He's calling for me.

* * *

WHEN YOUR BROTHER NEEDS YOU, GO TO HIM.

Sam's okay. He's okay enough for me to start actually writing the detox manual.

Demon blood to psychic children is like any other drug and the effects of withdrawal will be similar likewise. Sammy was irritable and on edge and twitchy and shaky and sweaty. And then he started to get a headache and seize and hallucinate. He's thrown up a couple of times. I swear the stuff pumps through his veins 24/7 for the past twenty-five years but get a little more into his system and it burns everything inside of him. He's stronger when it's in him and the first time he really did think he was right, and even when he was killing those demons two nights ago he was like that. Proud and angry and belligerent and

KEEP HIM SAFE.

I don't know because the apoclypse cut it short the last time. How long is this going to take?

* * *

Just a few days. They're agonizing, but just a few days.

HE'LL BE OKAY.

* * *

Sam's asleep. In an actual bed. He's not handcuffed for his own safety. He's not in a ghost-proof, demon-proof room. He's asleep in the room we've shared since we were kids at Bobby's. Sammy wants to get on the road tomorrow. I said we'll see. He thinks I don't trust him. He's wrong. He's half right. I don't trust him not to pass out, but if we're just driving, it will be okay. It will.

Sam can think I don't trust him for the rest of his life for all I care as long as he's safe. I'm going to have to burn this book.

Sam's asleep.

HE'LL BE OKAY.


End file.
